"No. This is my L.A. apartment."
"How many do you have?"
He shrugs. "A few dozen. But this is where I stay if I need to be in the city."
"Is this where you were for all those weeks?" I ask, my voice dropping at the memory of how bad it felt to not know where he was and worry about whether he would ever return home.
"Yeah," he replies, then the concrete wall shuts. The lift moves up.
"Are all your places locked up like this?" I question.
"Only the ones I use. The ones I rent aren't as secure."
We stop moving and the doors in front of us open.
Riggs maneuvers the car forward and then reverses into a spot. He turns off the Porsche, gets out, then opens my door. He reaches in and states, "Our driver will be here in an hour and a half."
I rise, and he leads me through another secure door, a small entryway, and into a penthouse. I freeze, gushing, "Wow."
The entire L.A. skyline glimmers through the penthouse's windows. It's one of the most incredible views I've ever seen.
He slides his arm around my waist. "Glad you approve."
"How did you find this place?" I question.
"Years ago, I stumbled on it."
"It's breathtaking," I claim.
He kisses me on the head. "Let me show you around."
He gives me a tour, then leads me back into the main suite. "We should get moving so we aren't late."
"I assume I have a dress here?" I ask.
He wiggles his eyebrows. "Of course." He slides his fingers around the hot-pink collar around my neck. He unclasps it, then kisses the curve of my neck. He squeezes my ass and then states, "Get in the shower."
I obey. After showering, I dry and then curl my hair. I ask Riggs, "What do you think about my hair if I do something like this?" I twist it up to show what I'm thinking about doing.
His eyes light in approval. He affirms, "Go for it, pet."
I secure my hair with pins into a messy updo, then apply my makeup.
I debate about what lip color I should use, then question, "What color is my dress?"
He rolls his deodorant over his armpit and answers, "Deep red."
I pick up my red stain and apply it. Then I enter the closet and find a gorgeous, floor-length dress hanging up. I open the lingerie drawer, but Riggs shuts it.
He asserts, "Nothing underneath tonight."
I fight to hide my smile but can't. When Riggs tells me not to wear panties, it usually involves something dirty in public. I often wonder if it's challenging for him to tease me while no one else knows what's happening.
He leans into my ear. "I wouldn't want you to be bored this evening."
I softly laugh. "Okay, then. Nothing underneath." I unzip the dress and step into it. It's sleeveless, backless, and has a built-in push-up bra. I close the zipper under my left arm and spin.
Riggs dangles a pair of red, six-inch stilettos in front of me, stating, "I'll be out in a minute."